


Mission Report

by TT_Angst_Queen



Series: Mission Report (Bucky's Log) [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Team as Family, Well - Freeform, and not fighting, but the team is together, so it counts DAMMIT, their is some hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 09:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14517237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT_Angst_Queen
Summary: The first letter arrives in Steve's post box in Avengers Tower on a day that he really just wanted to be left alone.





	Mission Report

 

* * *

 

 

It had been three months since Bucky had left him stranded on the Banks of the Potomac, and he woke up to all the Avengers and Sam standing worriedly at his bedside, Natasha stroking his hair and humming a lullaby in Russian. While he was asleep (“In a damn coma Rogers! We leave you alone for a few weeks and you start to recreate your glory days taking down HYDRA I swear-”) Tony had somehow (Steve didn’t care how, he didn’t want to _know_ how, by Bruce’s grimace when he hesitantly asked, and got only a smirk from Tony.) cleared Bucky’s name from all charges and even got him registered as a POW. In the general public’s opinion, Bucky was a POW, no matter if the courts wanted to drop the charges or not, and should be treated as such. That mindset went a long way towards clearing Bucky Barnes’ name, and Steve had found himself pathetically grateful for having Tony as a friend.

 

Steve had wanted to go right after Bucky, but…

 

“Oh hell no,” Sam snapped, eyes fierce. “The guy almost killed you, Steve, and right now, he ain’t the Bucky you remember.”  

 

Steve clench his fists, suppressing his wince as the still-healing flesh stretched painfully tight.

 

“I’m gonna have to agree with Birdbrain 2.0 here, Cap, James Barnes isn’t in the driver's seat right now,” Tony rubbed his chest, right beside the Arc Reactor, a stress habit. “When you fell… I was watching, Jarvis was showing me the footage and I was in a room with five Chinese investors that thought they were watching a goddamn movie and I couldn’t _do anything_ but watch you fall-”

 

Tony shuddered, and Steve flinched, knowing exactly what it was like watching someone you lo-care about, fall, and not being able to do a damn thing to stop it.

 

“He’s my friend, Tony-” Steve tried, but Tony smiled grimly at the blond man.

 

“So are we, Steve.” Clint pointed out, and the rest of them nodded. Thor, for once was strangely quiet, until he wasn’t.

 

“Steven,” Thor spoke, his voice oddly soft, and Steve paid attention; a quiet Thor was a serious Thor. “I felt much like you do when Loki was attempting to rule over Midgard. I too, watched my brother fall and had no hope of him surviving it.” Thor sighed. “When Loki was sighted by Heimdall and I was sent to retrieve him, I was overjoyed. I tried to reason with a man that was beyond reason and wasn’t willing to hear my words. Loki was taken back to Asgard and revealed to be controlled by an outside force, and the banishment of that force left… scars.”

 

Steve didn’t want to, but he could see where Thor was going with this, and he could see by the others faces that they did too, even if Clint had a grimace on his face, still sore over the mind control Loki had placed on him, willingly or not.

 

“Loki is still recovering, and he rarely allows me to see him. He needs space and time, and it is the least he deserves after what he went through. I honor his wishes and hope to one day see the brother I once knew when I was younger, But I am aware that that may never happen if I do not give him time to heal. It causes mother much distress that I do not visit as much as I used to, but she understands that Loki’s wishes are important to his healing.”

 

Steve huffed, frustrated tears pricking at his eyes, and he looked at them all, pleadingly.

 

“I just want him back…”

 

Natasha stroked his hair, looking at him with kind eyes.

 

“Shhh, детеныш, I know. But I understand where James is coming from, what it is like to be unmade. It takes awhile to heal, and space is something precious.” Natasha looked away, her hand still running her surprisingly soft fingers through his blond locks, soothing him.

 

“I’m sorry, ‘Tasha, I know you don’t like talking about it,” Steve reached a hand to grab her free one, and she looked at the larger, paler hand in her own, then at Steve, smiling softly, sadly.

 

“It is fine, _Stepen_ , you are worth the memories, no matter how painful, always.”

 

“You’re moving back to the Tower, Cap, as soon as you can move without pain, JARVIS will be thrilled, he misses his most frequent customer,” Tony smirked.

 

With all his Team- his family - looking at him with stern eyes, there was really no choice.

 

“Ok.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first letter arrives in Steve's post box in Avengers Tower on a day that he really just wanted to be left alone.

 

Steve had just finished a mission with the rest of the Avengers, sweaty and bloody, burns still healing with his serum enhanced body, cleaning up another one of Reed Richards lab accidents while the man himself swanned off and left them to clean up his mess. Never let it be said that hamsters aren't even more terrifyingly destructive when their ten feet tall and had flaming breath.

 

Seriously, What the heck Richerds?!

All Steve had wanted to do was lay on his bed and not move for a week, his muscles aching and his vision just that side of blurry from exhaustion. He pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt Tony had insisted he get that had “ _Sarcasm used to be my only defense, But then_ ** _Science_** **_Happened_**.” Tony told him it was custom made, and it didn’t cost much. Steve got quite the laugh out of it when he first saw it, and Tony got a huge hug out of Steve, much to the flustered engineer's embarrassment.

 

Prepared to just collapse in his bed and sleep for god knows how long, Steve was startled when JARVIS called him.

 

“ _Excuse me, Captain Rogers, but Sir asked me to, as he says ‘get your spangly butt to the common room, you have mail from RoboCop’._ ”

 

Steve felt the world tilt in a way that had nothing to do with being tired, and he felt his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t felt since he was injected with the serum, back when he was a skinny 5 foot nothing with asthma so bad that it knocked him off his feet more often than not, and his only saving grace was his best pal, who knew just how to rub in the menthol and pat him on the back and set him up-

 

“ _Your vital signs have spiked, Captain, should I call Sir?_ ”

 

Steve gasped for breath, shaking his head.

 

“N-No, JARVIS, I’m fine,” Steve choked, “Just- give me a second, will ya’?”

 

“ _Very well Captain. Sir has asked me to inform you that they are waiting for you._ ”

 

“Thank’s JARVIS,” Steve sighed, his breathing slowing, his hands still trembling.

 

 _“You are most welcome, Captain Rogers._ ”

“How many times do I have to ask that you call me Steve, JARVIS?” Steve asked a weak grin on his lips.

 

“ _Just one more time after the last, Captain Rogers,_ ” JARVIS said, sounding amused.

 

“All that Sass, JARV,” Steve laughed, relaxing further.

 

“ _I am but a humble AI, Captain Rogers._ ” JARVIS snarked.

 

Steve shook his head, chuckling. Yeah, Tony certainly created something special when he made JARVIS, that was for sure.

 

Steeling himself, Steve took a breath before moving to the elevator, pressing the button for the common room floor. The whole ride down, Steve had thoughts running through his head on what Bucky, James, the Soldier, whichever one it was, sent him. Anything from postcards to HYDRA agents head came to mind, and Steve found himself marveling that that last one was even something to worry about, now. Though, with the screening mail goes through in this day and age, he doubted a human head could get through the mail, unlike that episode of that Navy Cop show where one got sent to the goth scientists lab (“ _Completely_ unrealistic,” Clint had muttered, “Even if she was expecting a plastic skull, it would still be opened to check, its SOP in every federal building.”).

 

When the door opened, he practically ran out to the living area, almost crashing into the wall when he didn’t stop fast enough, much to everyone's amusement, going by the snickers they were holding back.

 

“What is it,” Steve panted, looking at them with wide eyes, “What did he send?”  

 

Tony stepped forward, holding out a manilla envelope, with so many postage stamps on it it was impossible to tell where most of them came from.

 

“Don’t know what’s in it, Capsical, but no bombs or anything living, so it should be safe,”

 

“But you’re opening it with us,” Natasha told him firmly, not budging in the face of Steve’s, admittedly weak, glare.

 

“Steve, you were a mess after Bucky left you on the riverbank,” Bruce told him gently, ever the peacemaker. “If you really want to read this alone, that’s ok, we’ll leave,” the others looked like they wanted to protest that, but Bruce carried on. “But I’m sure you would feel better along with the rest of us reading it with support.”

 

The earnest and caring faces of his makeshift family looked back at Steve, and the blond felt warmth flood his chest at the caring actions of his team. They weren’t patronizing him, they were just watching out for him, making sure he didn’t drown in his emotions.

 

Taking a break, Steve nodded. “Alright.”

 

They each found a seat, Steve is on the couch, stuck between Natasha and Tony, but comfortably. It was nice to feel the weight, the solidity of their presence.

 

Opening the folder with shaking hands, he began to read.

 

 

It was silent, for a while. They had clearly all finished reading the letter, or “Mission Report”, short as it was. They let Steve had his time to digest the gravity of the scattered and unclear words, almost Robotic, but also Childish in their tone. The letter was clearly not written by anyone with their full faculties intact, and it showed in the scattered penmanship, and repetitive words.

 

“Bucky used to have the best writing,” Steve spoke quietly, his voice slightly wobbly, and Natasha and Tony each put a hand on his arm, while the other moved closer, trying to offer him comfort in any way they could. “He was so proud of his writing, and his ma would brag to everyone when we were little that her two boys were the smartest around because they could write before everyone else,” Steve’s breath hitched. “Buck was into sports, but he liked poetry too, and writing. He would write these.. Beautiful poems that just took your breath away, but he never showed it to anyone but his family and me and my ma. He was gonna’ write a book, but the War happened and… Buck was smart, he could write, and he had a way with words.” Gesturing to the paper in his hand, Steve laughed wetly, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hands.

 

“I don’t even know, Buck used to be so smart and now…”

 

“He is still smart, Steve,” Natasha patted his arm, and gestured toward the paper. “Just look.”

 

Steve shook his head, not knowing what she was talking about.

 

“I don’t-”

 

“Look where he writes your name, and his name,” Clint pointed at the paper, leaning over Steve’s shoulder from his perch on the back of the couch. “He writes pretty damn well on those, compared to the rest, even if the spelling’s a bit off on his middle name.”

 

Tony laughed, nudging Steve in the side.

“I don’t blame the guy, I would have trouble spelling that monster of a middle of a name. No wonder you called him Bucky.”

 

Steve nodded. “I guess, yeah…”

 

“And the fact that he reached out, wrote you a letter, shows that he at least wants you to know he’s alive, if not completely ok. He remembers enough to know that he should send you this, Steve.” Steve nodded.

 

“Verily,” Thor nodded, “Loki sends me trinkets, small things he makes with his magic, through mother. I take this as a sign that he is recovering, and one day he may want to give me a trinket personally. Your Sergeant seems to want to keep you aware of his health, Captain.”

 

Looking at the letter from a new angle, thanks to his friend's words, Steve smiled. It wasn’t his best smile, still small and fragile, but it was better than his heartbroken face before.

 

“Yeah. this… is good. He’s ok, recovering. I just wish…”

 

“That he didn’t have to,” Natasha nodded.

 

“Yeah,” Steve admitted.

 

“Now we just gotta wait for the next one, Cap,” Tony smiled at Steve.

 

“Something to look forward to, I guess.”

 

Steve couldn’t wait.

 

* * *

 


End file.
